Embraced by the Darkness
by Brigade
Summary: There is a reason why everyone wants a piece of Harry Potter; the twelve-year-old is considered a prodigy by the Wizarding World, after all. But Harry has chosen his side. The Headmaster and Minister of Magic can try as they might - Harry is a dark wizard. Now...if only he could get in touch with the elusive, recently resurrected Voldemort. Sequel to Enveloped in the Darkness.
1. And so it Begins

**Welcome, one and all! I'm back and Darker than ever! Insert as many light strobes and streamers as you wish.**

**This is the sequel to my story Enveloped in the Darkness. I would strongly suggest reading it first.**

**Let me set this chapter up, shall I? In this first chapter, we see the immediate aftermath of Harry and Voldemort's exploits at the end of the former's first year at Hogwarts. It is written from the perspective of Severus Snape. **

**The chapter is a bit short, but it is very similar to the first chapter of EitD; it should set everything up nicely. **

**Can you predict what will happen next? Leave me a review. If you come close, I'll give you a cookie or something.**

**Enjoy. And follow this story on Twitter at BrigadeEitD while you're at it!**

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**EitD2 Chapter 1: And so it Begins**

Awful. Terrible, actually. Complete and unrepentant stupidity.

Severus Snape marked the parchment with a caustic, scrawled "D" for Dreadful.

The early morning was bitter and cold. He had gotten a few hours of sleep last night, but now sat in his chamber's living area, grading papers in near darkness by the early morning hearth. Did the lack of light hurt his eyes, you ask? Please. He was a wizard.

He was also a wizard that did not _want_ to be grading papers, necessarily – hell, he got enough of the pubescent miscreants during the day. However, he was up at this ungodly hour – and if you asked him based on his own experiences, there _was_ no god to forsake this hour – simply because he knew he would be called upon. And soon.

It was all just a matter of time. And no, not by the Dark Lord.

The timing of Cornelius Fudge's decree to submit all of the former Death Eaters in Azkaban to the Dementor's Kiss was incredibly coincidental. His Lord was just fine with taking advantage of coincidental happenings, though. And by that coincidence, Dumbledore had left the castle unguarded.

His Lord had sought to capitalize on his fortune. Potter, of course, had almost ruined all of it.

Severus crumpled a particularly poor essay with one hand and threw it into the fire. He refused to read another word of it; the student would receive nothing for the assignment.

What had Potter been thinking? Running around like a Niffler in search of shiny objects…it was appalling behavior from one in His Lord's service. If Severus had not been there to sort everything out, Potter would have been unsuccessful.

Potter was…Severus frowned harshly. He was very much a Potter. There was certainly no doubt about that. Severus did not dare to open up his emotional Pandora's Box regarding the Potter family; he had locked all of those emotions away long ago: hatred for the father…love for the mother. Potter was arrogant in part, quick tempered, but still one of his more favored students. The boy did his work diligently and turned in fair essays – exceptional essays, actually, when compared to his peers. Potter's brewing was skilled enough for a first year student for Severus' expectations. Severus was hard on the boy, however, and he did not plan to ease up. The boy possessed incredible power and a personality to match. Severus was not so foolish as to dismiss that.

He looked down. His Dark Mark was back – blacker than ever. Severus eyed it emotionlessly.

He had never been the type for sentimentality nor for lying stock in past deeds. It allowed Severus to make the best decisions for himself nearly every time. As for turning down a Dark Lord with Harry Potter at his side? No, he was not suicidal.

However…Severus had made his decision before he had been cognizant of their alliance. Fear prickled at his neck as he remembered the night His Lord had revealed himself:

_Severus' head cracked the stone harshly and two arms pinned him to the unforgiving wall. Black spots swam within his vision._

"_Hello, Severus."_

_It was whispered right next to him and Severus flinched violently. "M-my Lord – "_

"_Am I?" _

_The hands disappeared for a moment before a fist crashed into his mouth. His head smashed into the wall once more and Severus fell to the floor, covering his mouth._

_Red eye's peered crookedly at him through the darkness. "Why the long face, Severus? Here, let me help you up…"_

_A force slammed into him and Severus heard his ribs crack under the pressure. His body was launched across the room and his leg crumpled against the wall. Just as soon as he had gathered his wits, a force came stomping down on his ankle._

"_My Lord! P-please! No more – I-I beg you – "_

"_You beg for mercy? From me? Severus, how long it must be if you have forgotten that lesson…"_

"_I have information for you! I have never left my post at Dumbledore's side, just as you had ordered of me –"_

_A vicious hand grasped him around the collar and hoisted him into the air. "And you believe that that is what I wanted? Severus, you are no fool! You took the easy way out, like so many others! And now, Lord Voldemort is back, through His own merits, and you cower like a mutt before me. How proud you must be…"_

"_I-I have no excuse, My Lord. I have no defense."_

"_Of course you don't," Voldemort spat. "You were always one of my favorites, Severus. Young and talented. I had assumed that I could trust you. Clearly I was wrong…"_

_Severus, as Voldemort had said, was not fool. He had to act. Quickly. He clutched his master's robe with trembling fingers. "My Lord, please allow me the opportunity to earn your trust back. I-I cannot truly express my remorse. Please, My Lord. I am your servant once more."_

_He dared not look. He dared not breathe. _

"_Very well…"_

_Relief washed over him like cool water, soothing the scalding fire of the red eyes above him. _

"_You will have one task. One chance. You fail me, Severus, and I shall kill you. I will have no place in my new world for failures…"_

"_Of course, My Lord. I will not fail."_

_A dark, menacing chortle. "So sure of yourself, Severus. Even at my feet, you display an arrogance that has proven to be the mortal flaw of many witches and wizards. They see themselves as powerful, you see. Only the powerful can judge power, my servant. And you are not nearly as powerful as you'd like to think."_

"_Not powerful, My Lord. I am simply desirous to extend my life and eager to serve."_

"_Yes…" Voldemort drawled, scoffing derisively as Severus looked up. "And it is in that order with you, as it always has been."_

"_My L-"_

"Crucio_."_

_His body rebelled and his soul seared in anguish. Severus thrashed in the throes of the spell's power. No one could cast it more potently than His Lord. No one else could break a man with one spell._

_Severus' head fell limply to the floor as Voldemort finally relented. His dark hair matted together in front of his face, hiding the tears that were produced from the curse. _

_Voldemort sighed softly._

"_You do this to yourself, Severus. How much easier would life be if you straightened out your priorities? No more suffering, no more anger…simply my favor. I admire you so, Severus. I understand you…and you have tools that most of my servants would kill for. So why must you fight me? Why must you fight your destiny at my side? If you had been the servant you once claimed to be, neither of us would be in this situation. Me, in another body. You…in pain, at my feet. It could have been different. It can be better…"_

"_W-what do you require of me, My Lord?" Severus struggled to say, not bothering to look up. A blue vial was lowered into his vision. _

"_Do you know what this is?"_

_Runespoor Venom. "Y-yes, My Lord."_

"_Good. You will incorporate this into your lesson plan for the first year students."_

"_But…I beg your pardon, My Lord…but why?"_

_A hand gently pulled his hair back, until he was seeing red._

"_Because, Severus…with this, we shall catch ourselves Harry Potter," Voldemort whispered triumphantly. And Severus listened to His Lord's plan. _

"Severus. Are you awake?"

Severus glanced up from his grading expressionlessly. "I am. I could not sleep."

Dumbledore sighed slightly, his beard shaking in the green flames of the hearth. "I wish I could say the same, my friend. Unfortunately, I have been awake all this time. Would you be willing to come to my office? I'm afraid my knees have no patience for the floor this morning."

"Very well," Severus marred one more paper with a "D" for Dreadful before standing. "The password is the same, I presume?"

"Naturally."

Setting the stack of parchment aside, Severus rose onto his toes and arched his back. He heaved a heavy breath and scooped up a handful's Floo.

"_Sol Exurit."_

In a rush of green and a sharp lurch, Severus found himself in the Headmaster's office. It was amusing, really. Albus has such silly passwords for the gargoyle placed outside his office, but the passwords to his Floo were much more…profound.

"Please, take a seat," Dumbledore beckoned to one of the four plush chairs in front of his desk. "Minerva, Pomona and Filius will all be joining us momentarily, but first…I am sorry, Severus, but I must ask – "

Severus knew what he wanted. Wordlessly, Severus wrenched the sleeve of his robe up past his elbow.

"Ah…" Albus peered down gravely at the mark. "So it is as I feared. Do you have any recollection as to when…-"

"Past midnight," Severus replied simply. "Only a few hours ago. I have not slept since."

"And has he summoned…?"

"No," murmured Severus. "It…concerns me. I would have expected him to summon the Death Eaters immediately. This course of action not only leaves us ignorant, but I'm ashamed to admit that I fear for my own life."

Professor Dumbledore sighed softly, seating himself in his own chair. "Severus, you are safe as long as you remain at Hogwarts. However, I…I am not sure how it has come to this. I have examined every bit of the third floor as well as the passageway underneath and it has all been wiped clean. Voldemort has gotten the best of us."

"Perhaps it was a follower," Severus proposed quietly. "I cannot imagine how the Dark Lord was able to procure the stone without a physical body. It's…it's unthinkable – "

The corner of the Headmaster's lip quirked upwards, causing his beard to twitch. "I am not surprised in the slightest that Tom was able to get to the stone. No…what puzzles me is that he was able to _take_ it. I had hoped that we could at last corner him. I am very confident in my magic, Severus, if you'll allow me a moment of egotism. There was no way around the spells cast on the mirror – Voldemort took the stone without any intentions of using it. And yet…he has a body once more."

"He must have had help."

"Yes," Professor Dumbledore tipped his head. "I must agree with you. Nevertheless, I still find myself at a loss of how Voldemort was able to obtain the Philosopher's Stone."

They sat in silence for a moment. Severus glanced up at the portraits of all the former Headmasters and Headmistresses of Hogwarts; funnily enough, they were all awake and alert.

"Oh goodness, Severus, I'm sorry; would you like anything to drink whilst we wait?"

"Coffee," Severus replied shortly. "Black, please."

"Naturally," Professor Dumbledore hastened to prepare the two wizards' drinks.

The silence was not uncomfortable but it was certainly tense, weighed down with the heavy thoughts of both men.

"Harry will need to be notified."

Severus started. "I beg your pardon?"

"Harry Potter," Dumbledore smiled grimly, setting Severus' drink in front of him. "I regret having to involve the poor boy so early, Severus, but he will be one of Voldemort's biggest targets. Harry needs to know."

Severus frowned. "So soon, though? I have no qualms with telling Potter, but we are yet to have a plan. Surely it would be more helpful to have an idea of how to proceed before we inform the boy?"

Dumbledore was silent. "Plans can change, Severus. Indeed, surely they will. But knowledge…it is power. I have all the confidence in the world in Harry. Can you say truthfully that you've taught a more talented young wizard in your time here at Hogwarts?"

"…No. I cannot," Severus averted his gaze. "Potter has done well. Highest grade of my first years in Slytherin. And of course, that discounts the….lessons the two of you had."

"A fantastic pupil if I do say so myself," Dumbledore's eyes shone. He examined his clasped hands for a moment. "Asking Harry to match Voldemort's magical prowess would be foolish; however, we can give him the tools to defend himself. For now, that is enough."

A sharp rap on the door cut their conversation short.

"Come in!"

Minerva McGonagall led Filius Flitwick and Pomona Sprout into the Headmaster's office. Severus eyed them all in silence; he could see the redness of McGonagall's eyes as she sat stiffly in her chair. He would not smirk outwardly, but a shiver of accomplishment ran through him. His spells had been successful…just as he had known they would be.

"Good morning, Minerva, Pomona, Filius," The Headmaster nodded to the Heads of House. "I apologize for waking you all so early. I'm afraid that I have some bad news for you all."

"What is it, Albus?" McGonagall said tiredly. Severus merely sipped from his goblet.

"As you all were aware, I left the school yesterday to speak at the Ministry," Dumbledore started. "Minister Fudge had snuck a bill through the Wizengamot that required a swift resolution. And while I was away…

"Minerva," Dumbledore sighed. "Did you notice anything amiss yesterday evening? Anything at all?"

McGonagall blinked, her eyebrows bridging together slightly. "Not at all, Albus. Severus and I were forced to deal with a potions mishap in the dungeons, but that was all that really happened last night. At least that I was aware of."

Dumbledore looked directly at her for a moment, saying nothing. It did not take a Warding Master to figure out what was happening, Severus thought.

"I see," said Dumbledore. "Last night…the Philosopher's Stone was stolen."

Pomona's hand shot up to her face. Filius squeaked, and Minerva's shoulder sagged. Severus tilted his head down.

"I…I don't understand, Albus," Pomona cried. "How did it happen? The stone was supposed to be unobtainable!"

Dumbledore's thumbs were massaging the backs of his hands. "Quite frankly, Pomona, I do not know. My initial scans were fruitless. That does lead me to believe one thing, however…

"Severus," Dumbledore's eyes found his own. "Would you please expose your forearm?"

Wordlessly, Severus did as he was told. He fought the urge to roll his eyes at the gasping and shocked expressions from his peers.

"H-He's back," Filius whispered timidly. "How did this happen? We did not even see this coming!"

"No," Dumbledore frowned, looking at the mark once more. "No…we did not. Severus has not been summoned, however, which may be more concerning than anything else. Voldemort is not without a plan, it seems. It is troubling."

McGonagall pursed her lips. "And what is _our_ plan, Albus? The students must be notified! Their parents as well! We cannot leave them defenseless."

"My dear, while that would certainly be ideal, what proof do we have other than the mark on Severus' arm?" Dumbledore replied simply. "I am not sure that would be enough for most witches and wizards; remember how horrible the first war was. Voldemort was nearly – he was unstoppable. No one knew who to trust or who was a Death Eater. Do you not remember how many of our own betrayed us?"

"Surely the Minister would want to prevent another war, right?" McGonagall argued. "We could nip this thing in the bud before it even began! All it would take is the Minister believing us – "

Severus scoffed harshly. "This is a man that sentenced every Death Eater in Azkaban to the Dementor's Kiss, I'll have you know."

Every eye in the room turned to him, most in shock, but Dumbledore's in surprise.

"I have sources," Severus defended, sneering at them all. "Did you think I would not know about this, Albus? My source informed me yesterday evening."

"Not at all, my friend," Dumbledore said quietly. "I am merely amazed at how soon the news found you."

"Was that why you were at the Ministry, Albus?" Filius questioned.

"Indeed," Dumbledore frowned. "That was a bill that I naturally had to oppose. I spoke with Cornelius on the matter yesterday. Not only is such a decision in bad taste, but it is also a foolish action on the Minister's end. I tried to persuade Cornelius of this."

"And how did that go?"

"…Not well, I'm afraid," Dumbledore frowned. "Those Dementors are such vile creatures. Even if the witches and wizards involved made poor choices, the Kiss is never the solution."

McGonagall frowned. "At least the Death Eaters in Azkaban will be unavailable to You-Know-Who. It should slow him down at least a little bit."

Severus said nothing. Indeed, it seemed that no one knew what to say at the moment. He could appreciate that. Two major revelations before breakfast were two too many. However, they all sat about feeling sorry for themselves. They were all massaging their bruised egos. No one could steal the stone, they had said! It was simply not possible.

The Dark Lord always found a way. So Severus sat silently, enjoying the bitter silence.

A large, tawny owl flew through an open window, startling everyone for a moment. Severus repressed the urge to smirk when the bird clipped Filius' ear, causing the part-goblin to utter some less polite words.

Dumbledore untied the morning newspaper from the owl's leg, levitating a treat for the winged creature out of his desk. Dumbledore's phoenix made a noise of discontent from its golden perch. Dumbledore chuckled softly before levitating another for his own pet.

The chuckle died immediately upon gazing at the front page of _The Daily Prophet_**.**

"Albus?" Pomona asked. "Albus? What is it?"

The Headmaster shook his head slowly. Instead, he adjusted his half-moon spectacles upon his nose and read aloud:

**PRISONERS BREAK FREE**

**Mass Breakout of Death Eaters at Azkaban**

**By Patrick Fairview**

_A mass breakout of prisoners occurred early Sunday morning at Azkaban in the North Sea. The fugitives all had one thing in common – their connection to the former terrorist group known as the Death Eaters._

"_Awful news," Minister of Magic Cornelius Fudge said in a statement to the press Sunday morning. "The Ministry is still in the process of investigating the breakout. Unfortunately, we have nothing to present to the public at this time. However, we urge each witch and wizard to keep on the lookout for suspicious persons and behavior. We will be increasing our direct Floo connections to the Department of Magical Law Enforcement over the next few days as well as increasing our on-duty Auror staff."_

_The breakout was first reported at 2:41 am Sunday morning by the jailer staff on guard. By the time the Aurors had arrived, the breakout was finished and the suspects were nowhere to be seen. The Auror office could not be reached for comment, but reports of explosions and broken walls have reached The Daily Prophet. _

_According to Minister Fudge, the Department of Magical Law Enforcement is currently in the process of interrogating the Dementors who were present during the breakout._

_The list of Death Eaters who escaped from Azkaban include the likes of Bellatrix Lestrange, Antonin Dolohov, Augustus Rookwood, and Sirius Black. Each were convicted of multiple murders and sentenced to life sentences in Azkaban._

_Stay tuned to an emergency Evening Prophet for more news on the breakout._

Silence. Deafening silence.

"And so it begins…" Severus muttered darkly, sipping his coffee. And so it would.


	2. Alley Adventures

**Hello, folks! Chapter 2 of EbtD is here! Welcome to the story, Harry.**

**You can follow me on Twitter at BrigadeEitD to get teasers and such for the story. Um...leave reviews? Please? Thanks.**

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**Chapter 2: Alley Adventures**

"Look! You see that broad over there?"

"The one with the hat?"

"No! The fat one that's about to lose all of her groceries!"

Harry tossed a look over his shoulder. A squat witch wobbled on unsure legs down the cobbled street of Diagon Alley, heaps of groceries stacked high in front of her.

"You mean she hasn't eaten them all, yet?"

Theo puffed up his face and jerked spastically. Draco, Blaise, and Harry all lost it; Harry punched the boy in the shoulder, unable to contain his laughter.

"Ow, Harry!"

"Sorry," Harry said with a wide smile, not sorry at all. He looked back at the struggling witch passively. Theo was right; she really was a mess.

The four Slytherin second years – third years now, actually, or they would be when school resumed next autumn – were seated outside of Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlour on the patio at the corner block of Diagon Alley. The shade was nice. The free ice cream? Even better.

"How are you doing, boys?" Fortescue called out, serving a pair of witches their desserts a few tables away.

"Just fine, sir," Harry spoke up for his friends. The ice cream was on Minister Fudge's tab, after all. Harry had spent the last couple of weekends the both this summer and the previous one "interning" inside the Ministry. At the end of his first year, Minister Fudge had offered – generously, of course – to show him around the Ministry. Harry had met several important people in that time, from Unspeakables to members of the Wizengamot to Aurors. Reporters and "regular" citizens often tried to approach him there, but the Minister was always around to wrap an arm around Harry's shoulders and steer him away. Fudge just wanted to put him on display him like a prized puppy, Harry assumed.

And that was fine. If anything had happened in the past year, Harry had grown up. He had been such an _idiot_ in his first year at times, now that he looked back on it. There was a lot for Fudge to gain by having him around, Harry now knew, and he made sure that he was…compensated for it. Ice cream? Definitely. School books and supplies? On the Ministry's tab. Was Harry going to ask for the brand new, state of the art Firebolt racing broom? You're damn right, Harry was! Fudge would do anything to keep him happy; hell, after the Azkaban fiasco last year, Fudge needed all the positive publicity he could get.

Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy were extremely proud of him.

Harry licked the last bit of his chocolate ice cream happily. Voldemort did not let him down; the Malfoys had taken him in after his first year (Draco had been so excited) and staying with them was marvelous. Living in luxury suited him, Harry thought. He could study magic in a beautiful private office. He could fly his broom whenever he wanted to. His friends could also visit any time they wanted. It was marvelous.

There was one thing that bugged him, though. Even now. It had been just over a year – an entire _year_ – since Harry had even seen one hair of Voldemort. That night when he stole the Philosopher's Stone was the only night he had ever seen Voldemort in person. Sure, they corresponded by way of owls and such, but that did not make up for the Dark Lord's absence. Neither Lucius nor Professor Snape had been called to his side, either. It was _baffling_.

And a bit depressing, if Harry was honest with himself. Was Voldemort not supposed to revolutionize the Wizarding World? What was he doing? The last anyone had seen of him – and make no mistake, only a select few knew Voldemort was behind it – was the mass breakout from Azkaban. Voldemort refused flatly in his letters to even discuss his plans, either. He had actually scolded Harry for even asking!

On the other hand…Voldemort had come through on his other promise. He had even sent Harry a means to communicate with him. At the start of the previous summer, Harry had received a ring from Voldemort in the mail. It was a silver band with black engravings, swirly gracefully around the outer rim. It was very stylish, in Harry's opinion, and he had worn it on his left ring finger ever since. The ring, if Harry ever ran his finger down the length of ebony on it, would call for Voldemort, giving the Dark Lord Harry's location. It was similar to the Dark Mark, in that regard.

'_Don't you ever use this unless you actually require my assistance. I will be most displeased,'_ Voldemort had written him. Harry was not so foolish as to test that.

Even from his unknown location, though, Voldemort sent him books, lists of spells on parchment, and even discussed magical theory with him. Harry was still learning, still growing as a wizard. His rituals from first year had proven to be essential to that growth, as well. He was a fair bit taller than his friends with the exception of Cedric. No one on the Quidditch pitch could handle his strength or athleticism, either. Harry smirked just thinking about it – two Quidditch Cups in a row.

Harry had also continued his lessons with Dumbledore throughout the year, as well. The Headmaster had pulled him aside at the start of the previous year to express his own desire to continue them as well as to tell him about the foreboding, imminent return of the Dark Lord. Sure, Harry had played the part. He had rung his hands and begged and pleaded…and then he had gone to write a letter to Voldemort. The Dark Lord had wryly replied that, yes, he was aware of Dumbledore's suspicions. Harry assumed that Snape got to it first.

Harry leant back on the hind legs of his chair and ran his fingers through his hair. He would deal with Voldemort eventually, he assumed. Until then, however, he would just enjoy being a kid. None of his ambitions had changed; he wanted to change the world (or at least the Wizarding one) eventually, and if you asked him, he was off to a fantastic start.

Harry heard a dog bark on the patio and whatever conversation Draco and Theo had been having stopped short. A small child giggled and tossed the dog a slice of deli meat. Harry's eyebrows rose. That was a _big_ dog.

The burly dog gobbled the food in the way only dogs can; Harry eyed the beast's matted fur. For such a large dog, it was pretty thin as well. It continued sniffing around.

"Ugh, look at that brute," Draco muttered disdainfully. "It figures that whoever owns the cretin forgot to leash it."

"It's huge," Blaise remarked. "It would come up to my waist!"

The dog was munching away on another scrap from another table when its head rose up and its eyes found Harry. The dog stilled dramatically.

Harry cocked his head at the dog, but held his hand out to it when the canine trotted over. The dog sniffed heavily a few times before timidly licking Harry's hand. He smiled.

"It's a stray, Draco," said Harry, laughing at the disgust on the boy's face. "It's friendly, at least."

The dog barked. Harry scratched it behind one of the monstrously large ears. "I was pretty much a stray, too, at one point," Harry informed the dog. "Not anymore, though."

The dog started panting and leaned its head closer for Harry to pet. Harry did so, enjoying the dismay Draco was expressing. He knew he was smiling; he had always wanted a pet…not that he would ever admit as much to anyone.

"How's a sandwich sound, boy?" Harry grinned. He was just talking to it to mess with Draco at this point. "Oi! Mr. Fortescue! You mind getting this dog a sandwich for me?"

"But of course, Mr. Potter!" The man called back from the door of his parlour.

"Brilliant! Put it on the Minister's tab, eh?" The man tipped his head and Harry returned to scratching the dog.

"Hello, boys!"

Harry paused in his petting of the dog and turned around; Daphne Greengrass was there, standing primly with a bag of goods underneath her arm.

"'Ello, love," Theo drawled lowly, playfully batting his eyes at her. She giggled in response. "Nice dog, Harry."

"Thanks," He grinned as the dog nudged his hand, silently demanding to be scratched again. "He annoys Draco, so he's a keeper."

"My father will never allow that thing in our manor," scowled Draco. "And it does not _annoy_ me. It's filthy. That's all."

"It does need a bath," Daphne added.

"It's a dog," Harry retorted, looking down into the dog's grey eyes. "It was never going to smell like roses, you know."

Daphne hummed thoughtfully. "True. Still…at least brush the poor thing or something, okay?"

"Sure," Harry uttered dryly. The dog had lain down by his feet, looking perfectly content.

"So what brings you four to Diagon Alley?" She asked, setting her bags down for the moment.

Draco beat the others to it. "Harry was working at the Ministry again, today. We all decided to make a day of it."

"We've been here pretty much all afternoon," supplied Blaise, finishing off his own ice cream.

Theo grinned slyly. "And we've yet to visit Knockturn."

Daphne looked puzzled. "Alright?"

Harry grinned. "It's like visiting a haunted house for these blokes. It is all spooky and scary."

"It is for you, too," Draco claimed. Harry shook his head, laughing.

"No way," Harry said. "I'd knock whatever's down there on its arse."

It was probably true, but Harry had not actually been down Knockturn Alley enough to really make that claim.

"Want to come?" Theo asked their fellow third year. Daphne shook her head, appearing timid.

"No, I don't think so," She said uncertainly.

Harry scooted his chair closer to her. "Don't worry," He assured her with a wink. "I'll protect you."

Daphne ducked her head, embarrassed. "Thanks, Harry, but maybe some other time. I see my father down the street. I'll see you all later!"

And she shuffled away. Harry watched her go in amusement.

"You making moves on my girl, Potter?" Theo whispered dramatically, waving his spoon to and fro. "A duel, I say!"

Laughing, Harry drew his spoon like a sword, clinking it against Theo's own. "She's smart. Nothing good's going to happen down there."

"True," Draco shrugged carelessly. "But it will still be fun. You lot want to go?"

Harry tore a bit of the sandwich that Fortescue had brought over off and tossed it to the dog at his feet. "Sure," He replied easily. The boys stood, waving their thanks to Fortescue, and took off down the street.

"Hello, Harry!"

"Cheers, Potter!"

Harry slapped a high five to the wizard wanting one, nodding to another. That was the thing about being in the Ministry all the time; people recognized him. It was something that he has just accepted and had gone with it. There were worse things. Besides, having all of these people on his side would probably come in handy one day.

Harry handed the rest of the sandwich to Blaise. The dog was eagerly following the boys down the street. It looked like the canine wanted the rest of his sandwich. Blaise held it out to the dog, which reared up to grab it. Blaise recoiled.

"This mutt's jaws are a bit…obscene."

"The dog is obscene," Draco retorted.

Harry frowned playfully. "Stop making fun of my pet, Draco. He's awesome."

The dog barked, sidling up to Harry. He reached down to pat it.

That was another thing that had happened in the past year; Draco had matured a lot. Harry would be the first to admit that his best friend was a bit childish going into Hogwarts, but since then Draco had really found his stride. That advice that Voldemort had once offered him – to study the runes of spells before trying them – had gone a long way. Draco had an expansive knowledge of runes, now. He knew what spells should look like before they were even covered in class. It helped him dramatically, and now he was pushing Harry in all of his classes. It worked out well.

Knockturn Alley catered to a very shady clientele…but in reality, the word "shady" was interchangeable with the phrase "not approved by the Ministry." Potions ingredients could be found as well as questionable magical artifacts. There was even a motel in the depths of the Alley. Homeless witches and wizards as well as the half-bred magical population were welcome there. Imagine that…genuine compassion for those in need. Of course, the Ministry did not want the majority of the magical population to know that.

"So we're going to Borgin and Burke's, right?" Theo asked. Harry nodded.

"I want some new books," He said.

Draco turned his head to him, frowning. "More? Merlin's beard, Harry, we've got a huge library back at home. That's not enough for you?"

Harry smirked.

"Nope," He said simply.

The four boys and the dog trekked down the narrow steps leading into the shaded alley. Walking around Knockturn was all about attitude, Harry believed. It was simple – if you acted like you belonged, like you knew what you were doing and where you were going, no one would bother you. And so he walked with his head high and his shoulders even, knowing all the people around him knew who he was but not caring at all. He would make an example of any fool that stopped him.

Ah, that was another thing Fudge had granted him…freedom from the Decree of Underage Wizardry. He was important like that.

The boys came up to Borgin and Burke's and walked in without lingering about. It still amazed Harry how much room there was inside the shop – magic was the cause, obviously, but it made Harry feel warm realizing the impact magic could have on him.

"Welcome to Borgin and B – oh. Children."

The shopkeeper, Borgin, looked at them as if something foul had been dropped upon his doorstep. "This is not a place for schoolboys. Besides, I doubt you lot have the coin to pay for my goods. Be gone."

Harry looked incredulously at Draco.

"You see, Mr. Borgin," Draco started disdainfully. Harry grinned and looked away; these types of discussions were the ones Draco was made for. "I, unlike you, _do_ have the funds to pay for these…goods, you call them? My, these trinkets would not even be fit to adorn my manor. I am a Malfoy, after all. Now, do we have a problem, sir? Must I involve my father in this…situation?"

Borgin's eyes bulged and he bowed jerkily. "T-that will not be necessary, young Mr. Malfoy. I beg your pardon – so many enter my shop merely to wander about. How careless of me; it is an honor to have you here, of course. May I be of any assistance to you or your…friends?"

Draco sniffed. "No. We shall look around. I will call for you if we need anything."

"Naturally, naturally. I am at your service," Borgin hastily stepped back behind his curtain before he could cause any further damage.

Harry snorted. "Nice one, Draco. What an idiot."

The boy smirked. "It takes a firm hand to deal with the likes of him, Potter. Remember that."

"Oh, I will," said Harry dryly. "You see anything useful?"

Theo had wandered off to the side of the shop. "Wicked! A ring that can morph into a sword! I _want_ that…"

The four of them looked at everything: jewelry, weapons, books, and even furniture. Harry had picked out a few books from the rickety bookshelf in the back of the shop. One was simply a spellbook that, when Harry skimmed through it, contained some spells that he did not know. As long as there was some knowledge to be gained, it was worth the purchase.

Another covered human mutations. That was a big no-no in the eyes of the Ministry. There were many "diseases" out there – Lycanthropy, for one – that could mutate a witch or wizard. However, several wizards in the past had had a fascination with those mutations. Could be used for the good of wizardkind? Harry himself had been intrigued. Another fun book to read.

The third? Rituals, of course. Ho hum.

Draco had a small pile of trinkets resting on the counter as well. Blaise was holding a small, dilapidated book, and Theo was clinging to that damn ring with an unyielding grin on his face.

Borgin came back when Draco called for him and the boys made their purchases. Harry took a large amount of amusement from the man's jerky movements. The boys were on their way out when an artifact caught Harry's eye.

It was a small thing, resting at the back of a shelf in the darkest corner of the room. A glittering jewel rested on a piece of black silk. The green hue of the gem was mesmerizing. Had he seen this thing before?

Oh. There was a note as well:

_**Jade of Future Knowledge**_

_The Jade of Future Knowledge is a precious jewel derived from the Inner Eye of a Seer that enables its user to view a future even in their life. The knowledge gained will be of interest to the user as the jewel will evaluate the desires of its wielder. A word of caution, however; much like the true visions of a Seer, the memory obtained from the Jade will not show how the memory came to pass. Likewise, the vision may lack details that paint a thorough picture of the future_

_For price and directions of use, ask for Mr. Borgin_

"Ah…I see you, like so many others, have found one of my prized possessions."

Harry turned sharply, staring at the shopkeeper. Borgin averted his eyes quickly.

"It has been returned many times. It can only be used once for an individual, after all. Still…it is priceless. To know one's own future…alas, many cannot handle their own destiny. They look into their futures for love or in the hopes of finding success. The witches and wizards are often disappointed. They sell the gem back to me for a fraction of what it is worth, desperate to be rid of it."

Harry was not sure why the man was telling him this. Perhaps to boast? If so, Harry certainly was not impressed.

"Using it is not difficult: you simply hold the gem with both hands and allow it to rest on your forehead," Borgin's eyes finally rose to meet Harry's, gleaming greedily in the lack of light. "What I said before in error is correct in this instance; you _really_ cannot afford it. A very good day to you all."

The boys walked down the steps and back into the alley. The hulking dog barked happily, butting its head against Harry's hip. He smiled absently, his mind still on the gem in the shop.

"Draco…" Harry said at last. They were walking down the very narrow alleyway back to Diagon. "Borgin deserves a bit of retribution, don't you agree?"

The three others halted in their conversation.

"I suppose," Draco drawled at last, his eyes beginning to shine in anticipation. "What did you have in mind?"

Harry grinned, looking at them all. "I want that gem," He said. "I want to see my future. And if Borgin won't sell it to me, perhaps I just…take it."

Theo whistled. "You want to steal that thing? I dunno, Harry; I reckon Borgin's got a bazillion spells and wards covering every inch of his shop. I don't see how you could take it without him knowing."

Harry glanced to Blaise, who looked doubtful as well. Draco, however…Draco knew exactly what he was planning to do.

Draco smiled an evil smile. "Go for it. We'll meet back up with you near Malkins'."

Harry nodded, shooing the boys away.

"What is he going to do?"

"Don't worry about it."

"Draco!"

"Blaise!"

"Come on!"

Harry chuckled quietly. The dog was looking up at him silently, as if waiting for him to make a move. Harry patted it on the head.

"Let's find somewhere a little more secluded for this, mate."

Harry took a left down a narrow path off of the main section of Knockturn Alley. Another left brought him directly behind Borgin and Burke's. It was odd; the back alley was very nearly pitch black. Magic, Harry supposed.

Speaking of magic…Harry had developed a new trick in the past year or so. It was a magical technique that no one had ever named. It was simply written about. A warm rush of accomplishment fluttered through his chest. He had accomplished this technique without Voldemort's help, too.

Magic was, in essence…_magic_ - neither a solid nor a liquid. And yet, magic could help things grow. It could harm or heal. It could make dishes wash themselves or it could make people fly. Magic was…or it could be…physical.

And that is where this technique came into play. A wizard from a ridiculously long time ago had studied the physical nature of magic. He had concluded that while magic was not normally a physical thing, it could interact with physical objects when the witch or wizard intended it to.

Harry had found that fairly obvious. But magical theory was like that sometimes. And that theory opened the door to something special.

"You keep a lookout for me, alright?" Harry grinned to the dog. He…well, he would not exactly be able to defend himself whilst doing this.

He sat on the ground, trying to ignore the filth of the alley. He needed to concentrate. Intention was the key, and he intended to steal that damn gem. Borgin could go fuck himself for all Harry cared; he wanted to see his future.

The desire fueled him and his magic began to form. It moved to and fro within him…and suddenly, it was with_out_ him and everything was dark.

Harry could see shadows. The wall in front of him was dark and wooden – though that was something he could not tell for sure, at the moment. He moved forward, through the wall, feeling and hearing nothing.

It was a weird feeling. He was weightless, floating along. He heard nothing except the swirling rush of _something_. The shadows were brighter inside the building. He could see one book from another and make out the different trinkets lining the walls. Passing a mirror, Harry could make out the moving darkness that was him.

And at last. There it was. The gem sat innocently on its silken sheet. Harry moved forward and no longer could he pass through things; instead, he was holding the gem within him.

'_You're coming with me.'_

Harry made it back to his physical body pretty easily – he was not total pants at directions, thanks. He felt a jolt – the first feeling he had experienced in several minutes – and blinked rapidly. Harry grinned. The gem was resting gently in his hands.

"Dinner! So hungry!"

Harry looked up as he heard a snarl; his dog was leaping after a gnarled witch with her wand brandished. A flash of steel flared in front of him and the dog whined out in pain.

"No!"

Harry's hand shot out, launching the witch away from the dog. Harry leapt over its body, anger in his eyes.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" Harry roared, shoving his wand into the face of the downed witch. "I should kill you!"

The witch cackled, cradling her injured hand next to her breast. "Hunger consumes! The hunger is real! Bad dog! Bad dog will feed me!"

Harry spat. You know what cured crazy? Fire. Fire cured crazy.

"Get out of here, you bitch," He growled. Seconds later, an enchanted fire rose up. He heard the woman scream, fleeing the light. Harry turned around with a sigh to assess the damage to his new friend. The poor dog may not even make it.

Or it may not even be a dog at all.

"Holy shit," Harry breathed, rushing to kneel by the side of the emaciated man before him.

Ragged robes barely covered the man and black matted hair, much like the dog's fur, covered his face. Tattooed, much too thin arms covered the man's midsection as blood flowed over them like water.

"P-poison," The man gritted out in a raspy voice, whipping his hair back weakly. Harry's eyes widened. He knew this man.

"Sirius Black?" Harry asked, reaching out to move the man's hand away from the wound. Grey eyes found his, squinted together in pain.

"That's me…Help me, Harry. Please."

Harry tried one of the few healing spells he knew. It was hopeless. He had no idea how to handle poisons. He needed help.

Maybe Voldemort would forgive him.

"I'll get you help, Sirius. I promise," Harry vowed. He reached for his ring – ready or not, it was time to see Voldemort once more.


	3. Saving Sirius

**Hello! Did I scare any of you? This one took me a while.**

**Life bit me on the ass these past few weeks. School, work, this story, a young niece, planning for my future...well, the story got put on the back burner for a little bit.**

**Hopefully, this doesn't happen again. At least it's near the beginning of the story, right? Might I recommend another read-through?**

**If you ever have any concerns ("Don't abandon this! PLEASE!") (I won't), just message me. Fanfiction, Twitter, whatever. I'm usually pretty good at getting back to people.**

**I think that's it. I do believe this chapter will make up for everything. **

**P.S. ...Got any artists out there? You might find some...inspiration in this chapter.**

* * *

**Chapter 3: Saving Sirius**

Sirius Black sat hunched over – nearly laying down, really – cradling his wounded stomach as blood flowed freely into his lap. Harry knelt swiftly, gritting his teeth. The wound looked bad. Really bad. Some purplish substance was coating the wound and the blood oozing free had a black hue. The poison, it seemed, was working quickly. Harry was at a loss of what to do next.

Damn poisons. Damn healing magic, too; he was still pants at the stuff in comparison to all of his other talents.

"I've called for help," Harry eventually settled on saying to the withered man. That was something Harry had noticed, too, and it pained him. Sirius Black was unnaturally thin. His skin was gaunt and loose, ill-fitting to his emaciated body. There was no color to the man and his hands seemed to chronically shake. If this was what Azkaban could do to a person…well, Harry was never going to go to Azkaban for any reason, that was for sure.

"Who?" Black huffed. Harry tilted his head, acting as if he were simply examining the wound further. Harry could tell him, he supposed, but it would be like telling a child that there was a monster under their bed…and then conjuring said monster to live under said bed.

Probably not the best idea.

"A friend," Harry said instead. A hacking cough racked the man's damaged body.

"Ow," Black muttered weakly.

Harry reached out, massaging the man's shoulder awkwardly. "Don't worry, he'll be here soon. Er…I know I told you to protect me and all…but why did you do it?"

A small chuckle answered him, so silent that Harry barely heard it. He could not see the man's face through all of the black hair, but he could hear the humor in the man's voice. "I heard your friends. I know who you are – hell, even if I had not heard them talking, I'd know just by looking at you."

"And who am I?"

Black jerked his head in a practiced motion and the shaggy, matted hair flipped over to show the man's face.

"You're my godson. That's all the reason I needed."

Harry paused for a moment, looking into the man's grey eyes…until the giggles got to him.

"That's the sappiest thing I've ever heard," Harry laughed, smiling like an idiot.

Sirius grinned sheepishly, lightly massaging his stomach. "It is, isn't it? Ah well…so how's your life been, Harry?"

"Well – "

"_Move_."

A firm hand grasped his shoulder and all of the good-naturedness vanished. Harry stepped aside automatically, looking up.

Yep. It was Voldemort, alright.

Red eyes peered down at him for a moment. Harry matched the man's gaze, but it was hard not to notice how he had changed since his resurrection. Black hair, for starters, sat upon his head. It was swept to the side casually, as if a crown should encompass it. Harry nearly rolled his eyes at the thought.

Voldemort also had a bit of facial hair going – barely more than a shadow gracing his jaw, though. It was something that surprised Harry a bit; Voldemort never seemed the type to not shave. Maybe it had to do with his plans, then. Damn. Now his curiosity was bubbling forth, again. The one thing that had not changed, however, was the presence that the man carried himself with. He looked ridiculously strong, and everything from the man's face to his posture screamed out that very fact.

Voldemort's lip tugged upwards and he clapped Harry on the shoulder before looking down. That was as much of a blessing as he would receive, Harry supposed.

"And what do we have, here, Mr. Black?" Voldemort muttered quietly. "My, my…it seems someone has lost their quickness rotting away in Azkaban."

Sirius' eyes deadened and Harry grimaced just seeing that. Yeah…Voldemort was still a bit callous, as well.

"It does that," Sirius managed after a moment. "Who are you?"

Voldemort hummed non-committally, inspecting the wound. Sirius tried to struggle when he was denied an answer to his question, but Voldemort's hand lashed out to grab the man's chest. Sirius' movements ceased.

"Let's not struggle, shall we?" A dark grin broke took over the Dark Lord's face. "It never does anyone any good struggling against me."

His wand was in his hand before Harry could even process it. Quickly it was pressed into Sirius' midsection and the weakened man cried out in pain. Harry had to react. What could he do, though, to stop Voldemort from hurting him? What had he been thinking calling Voldemort for help?

"_Resolvunt_."

Sirius sighed shakily and Harry watched, arm outstretched, as the wound on Sirius' stomach slowly stitched itself back together.

Voldemort twirled his wand. "Really, Harry, you were not able to handle a little scrape like this? I am disap – ohhhh, that wouldn't be a good idea."

The Dark Lord had just looked up at Harry and his expression darkened severely. Harry's emotions must have shown on his face. Voldemort stood swiftly, towering over Harry. Why the fuck was he so tall?

"Harry," Voldemort whispered, leaning down. "After all this time – after every gift that I have handed to you, you still do not trust me?"

Harry's mouth was dry. "Sirius doesn't deserve the pain you were putting him through."

"He deserves all the pain in the world for ever deciding that it was a smart decision to oppose me," Voldemort snarled. "And still, I healed him. Am I not merciful, Harry? I even let your trespasses against me slide away. I look at you and see a young man, cleansed and full of potential. And still…you mistrust me?"

"You killed my parents, in case you'd forgotten," Harry growled. Screw it; if Voldemort wanted to fight, Harry would gladly get into it.

Voldemort rolled his eyes dramatically slowly. "This again, Harry? You are a hypocrite. You must meet me halfway. I've let everything between us from the past go, and yet you still cling to this childish matter?"

"Wait…y-you killed Lily and James?"

Voldemort looked down passively as Sirius struggled to get up. "You might want to remain seated, Mr. Black; you are not exactly in the best of conditions, after all."

Sirius ignored him, getting up to a knee briefly before falling back down with a grunt. His eyes closed and his hair hung meekly in front of his face.

Finally, his eyes opened. They were looking at Harry, and the emotions in them force Harry to duck his head. He did not even know the man! He only knew Sirius' name! Regardless…that look shook him. Sirius knew who the man who had healed him was, now. And Harry had called the man a friend just moments before.

Sirius' reaction was like ice sliding down Harry's spine. It was slimy and filled with guilt. _That_ was how he should feel about being in the presence of his parent's murderer. Instead, he had helped the bloke regain his body. _Fuck_.

But he had no other choice, though, right? Voldemort had blackmailed him – Ron Weasley's death would have been pinned on him if he had refused. And he had learned a lot during their…partnership, as well. It was not like what had happened was the worst situation. He would have to explain himself to Sirius later. And what was that feeling, that desire to explain himself to his godfather? What even was a godfather? What did that even mean for him? Harry wanted to rub his face in exasperation. And why was he questioning every damn decision he had made?

He merely sneered at Voldemort, instead. Voldemort grinned viciously.

"And so, let me put it this way for you, Mr. Black," Voldemort drawled softly. "Yes, I killed them. Easily. Effortlessly. They're gone, however…and all of that is in the past. Let's look to the present for a moment, shall we? At this very moment, you stand – or rather, you slump - in one of the darkest, most dangerous alleys in the entire Wizarding World. You were convicted of a crime that you did not commit and the Ministry is desperate to find a Death Eater to 'Kiss.' If your continued survival means anything to you, you will let the past go. You _need_ me. Just as the entire Wizarding World needs me."

Sirius' face scrunched together in revulsion. "And where's my brother, Voldemort? How did that work out for him?"

Voldemort's eyebrows rose slightly. "Dead. He betrayed my trust. The point is moot, regardless. Do you believe that I just put a brand on my Death Eaters and send them out? No, no, no, Mr. Black; that is not how it works. No one in the Wizarding World knows how I truly work. Not yet, at least. Instead, I am offering you protection. You see, I don't need you, Mr. Black. Especially…"

Voldemort trailed off with a chuckle, wrapping a leisurely arm around Harry's shoulders before the boy could even notice. Harry resisted the urge to shiver when Voldemort's fingers traced the back of his neck. "Especially when Harry here is already on my side."

"What?!"

The expression on the gaunt man's face panicked him. "Look…I can explain it to you later," Harry said lowly, trying to placate his godfather. Sirius' eyes were wide and strained. Harry rushed on. "I just wanted to make you safe. I wanted to get you some food and a place to stay. You need to get off the streets, Sirius. We can figure the rest of it out later."

Harry whirled on Voldemort, viciously stepping out from under the Dark Lord's arm. "What about you, eh? It's been an entire damn year and this is how you show up? Insulting my godfather, insulting me? I asked for help, goddammit! I bent my neck for-fucking-once! Isn't that what you wanted? I did what you wanted and you show up like this, making everything worse? Fuck you!"

Voldemort's red eyes deepened as the playful look left them. There was a slight dimple in his grizzled cheek that set off warning sirens in Harry's mind. Shame, then, that Harry did not care.

The panic had morphed into something else entirely. It felt like anger, but Harry could control anger. This? This feeling bubbled. It boiled. It wanted to escape and hurt and Harry could not stop his hands from shaking.

"Harry – " Voldemort started, looking over the boy's head. The anger had left his face suddenly.

"No," Harry seethed. "You don't get to interrupt. Look, Voldemort! I called for help – like you told me I could, mind you! – and you made everything worse! You hurt my godfather, threaten him, berate him…fuck you!"

"Harry! Shut up for – "

"No!" Harry roared. "I'm not the hypocrite, you asshole! Without me, you would still be less than a ghost! You gave me everything? You're wrong. It's the other way around! And then you ran off! 'Gee, thanks Harry! See you never!' Fuck you!"

Harry ducked his head for a moment. He was partially afraid of seeing Voldemort's expression, but the bubbling emotions hissed like a kettle. They simmered into something cold. Something dangerous.

With a chilling chuckle, Harry looked into Voldemort's eyes once more.

"You are taking something for granted, Voldemort, and you are overestimating your own power. You think a few tips in school are going to endear me to you? You think that you can just blow me off, that I'll follow you like a loyal little puppy? Is that what you think? No. I'm not as loyal as you'd like to think, Voldemort. I'd never be loyal to a prick like you."

A tick in Voldemort's jaw was the only warning he received. Suddenly, nails were scraping his scalp and twisting his head around by the hair. Voldemort's other hand clamped down on his jaw and neck, brutally wrenching his head down to look at Sirius.

Harry's rage disappeared in a flash. Sirius' eyes were glazed over and the thin man was slumped down the wall. Blood was oozing slowly from his eyes and Sirius' breath was coming in short, painful pants.

"Now is not the time," Voldemort murmured quietly before tossing Harry's head aside without a thought. Voldemort was on his knees in front of Sirius once more, muttering spells under his breath by the time Harry had righted himself.

Harry rubbed his jaw. "What's the matter? I thought you had helped him!"

Voldemort ignored him, reaching up slowly to touch his fingers to the blood dripping down the man's face. Harry's hands shook as Voldemort took his time. Did he not hear how Sirius was struggling to breathe?

Voldemort rubbed his fingers together right in front of his own eyes for a moment before sniffing them delicately. Harry could not make heads or tails out of the Dark Lord. How was _sniffing_ blood going to fix Sirius? Voldemort stood in a flash and it made Harry flinch, but Voldemort grabbed Harry's arm and a fistful of Sirius' hair.

"What the –"

Pressure clawed at Harry's everything. It was as if the brick walls in the narrow alley that had surrounded were closing in, intent to squeeze him to death. Harry could not see. He could not breathe. His body wanted to rebel and fight it off, but he endured –

Icy wind swirled into his lungs and Harry gasped, wrenching his arm free. Harry ran a hand through his hair and supported himself with the other on his hip, muttering obscenities under his breath before glaring at the Dark Lord.

"Surprise Side-long Apparition is not – "

"My Lord!"

"…Healer Benjamin," Voldemort drawled with a disgusted note in his voice. Harry looked at the man who had suddenly appeared, meekly resting on his knees. The man's light brown hair was parted to the side, but a gruesome looking scar ran down his scalp. Benjamin raised his head shakily and Harry grimaced.

The scar went down through the man's empty left eye socket. The nervous hunch in the man's shoulders told Harry everything he needed to know. He looked up at the Dark Lord. Voldemort had broken this man, somehow. It sent that thrill of danger of being in Voldemort's presence through Harry's system that had been missing for quite a while.

"Mr. Black here has been poisoned," Voldemort murmured, barely more than a whisper. "Devorathorn, I believe. Resistant to magic. You will heal him, Benjamin. _Or else_."

"O-of course, My Lord! I-I would n-never disobey or disappoint," said Healer Benjamin with wide eyes.

Voldemort sneered. "You have in the past, you filth. What are you waiting for? Go!"

The healer scrambled to his feet as if the grass below them was set ablaze. He levitated Sirius hastily, muttered something under his breath, and the two vanished.

"What on earth...woah."

It had taken him a moment, but his mind finally caught up. The wind was cold and the two of them were outside. But where in the hell were they?

There were no trees or plants as far as his eyes could see, but there many rolling hills – hills the size of which Harry had never seen. Clouds floated above the mountainous hills, caressing them as if they were a levitating blanket and the hills rolled together into a valley that almost seemed unnatural.

Water was to Harry's right. Was it a lake or an ocean? A sea, perhaps? Regardless, the environment around them was straight out of a fairytale.

"Where are we?"

Voldemort stepped forward, beckoning with his hand as he looked down into the valley. "We are on the Isle of Skye. Scotland. Far, far away from everyone and everything."

Harry was puzzled. "Why would you bring us to a place like this to heal Sirius?" They were walking down the steep decline into the valley. "There's nothing around for miles, like you said."

"Because," Voldemort drawled, laying a hand on Harry's shoulder. Harry's skin burned suddenly as they walked forward. It was enough to gasp…but then something took his breath away entirely.

A black, majestic castle – if you could even call it such - lay quietly in the valley, roaming wide on the expanse of earth. It was breathtaking; the estate was fortified like a castle would be, but it more closely resembled the Malfoy's manor than it did a castle like Hogwarts.

It was only one story, for starters. Well, two at the most – Harry could not quite tell from so far above. There were not any plants or trees. Just a quiet castle that ironically fit perfectly in the large valley.

"Where did this thing come from?" Harry asked blankly.

Voldemort snorted softly. "Surely you did not think I would sit on my laurels, did you? After my resurrection, I gathered my followers from Azkaban and brought them to a safe place. I built this manor alone. It required…certain materials…but I managed to acquire them without too much fuss."

Harry looked up at the Dark Lord. "How long did it take?"

Voldemort hummed. "Several days to fully finish. A couple of hours to set up a makeshift hospital for my Death Eaters. Of course, they required medical attention. You read about the missing healers from St. Mungo's last year in the _Prophet_, I presume?"

Harry nodded.

Voldemort chuckled darkly. "You found them. Benjamin, the Healer who took your godfather to the healing ward, was one of the Healers who did not quite understand their initial predicament. They've learned quickly."

"That scar looked brutal," Harry acknowledged with a sigh.

"He learned. Which reminds me…"

Harry was yanked by his hair suddenly until he was face to face with a Dark Lord with a cold expression.

"You will not speak to me the way you did earlier," Voldemort whispered softly. "_Ever_. If you have concerns, you will express them with the fear and reverence that I have earned. If you do, Harry, I shall have myself an experiment."

Voldemort's thumbs traced Harry's cheekbones until they came to rest on either side of his eyes. "These lovely green eyes of yours…I will take them out – but have no fear, Harry; I can just as easily put them back in. I will make you hold each of them in either hand. And then I will curse you. Over and over. With all the interesting curses I have learned over the years. You will be a sobbing mess, Harry, and you'll have only yourself to blame. And the experiment, Harry, will be to see where your threshold for pain lies."

Voldemort's thumbs were digging into Harry's eyes with an alarming amount of pressure. Voldemort tilted his own chin upwards, looking down his nose with a small, devilish grin tugging at his lips. It forced Harry to raise his own head, painfully, but he held the man's gaze.

Harry was no coward.

"How long will you hold out, I wonder?" Voldemort mused. "Your sight will be at stake. One small squeeze of your hands and your sight will be no more. And yet, you always seem to impress me, Harry. If you were anyone else, I would kill you for such an offense. Do not _push_ me. Do I make myself clear?"

The pressure on his eyes was gone and Harry did his best not to blink.

"Clear as mud," Harry replied evenly.

Voldemort grinned. "Good. Enough of such unpleasantness. Shall I show you around, Harry?"

"Sure," said Harry. "Sirius will be okay, right?"

Voldemort nodded once. "We will visit your godfather later. For now, it is time for us to…catch up."

* * *

The Manor was brilliant. Harry caught himself smiling like an idiot several times. The welcoming hall had rows of roman pillars leading to a wide, grand staircase. That was Harry's first impression of the manor, and it only got better.

The most striking room of the entire manor was definitely the throne room. Yes, Voldemort had one. And yes, it was absolutely intimidating and awe-inspiring. It was a dark room full of shadows, but light streamed in from a window far above.

The light could wait, though. The throne room was long and rectangular and surely voices would echo in here, right? Harry faked a bit of a cough to test his theory, but there was no returning echo. It was as if the room was in a vacuum.

A long, wide, silky black rug caressed a charcoal-colored marble floor. It was embroidered at the hems with a gold and green material, leading all the way up to a magical throne set upon seven, regal stairs.

Well…not set upon, technically.

The throne was _floating_, you see, on a dark cloud. Could it be from the fact that the throne seemed to be made of _wands_?

There was a balcony above, trailing around in a horseshoe-styled fashion and supported with Romanesque columns.

A large banner, green and silver, hung horizontally on the wall behind the throne. It was almost as big as the room itself. Harry was enraptured by it; the green in the tapestry moved like smoke, billowing around the coat of arms. A large, half-crescent window let light in atop the banner and throne. And yet, the throne stood out despite the streaming light.

"What is that," Harry asked first, flailing his arm exaggeratingly towards the throne and backdrop before looking at Voldemort in bewilderment. "And how damn long did it take you to make it?!"

Voldemort snorted in satisfaction before examining his nails. "Roughly a week."

"Fuck," Remarked Harry. "Can you build me one?"

Harry grinned at the Dark Lord's reaction.

Now, however, they resided in Voldemort's private study. Harry was lounging in a cornered off couch. Did that make any sense? Harry shook his head slightly, nibbling on the sandwich that Voldemort's house elf had brought him. He was a boy; that description would do.

Harry had noticed something weird as soon as the two of them had entered the manor; Voldemort had vanished his shoes immediately.

"You know," Harry munched contemplatively. "There was something I had been meaning to ask you since we got in here."

Voldemort raised a lazy eyebrow. His arms were fastened together atop his head and one foot was leaning lazily on a knee. Still, his expression promised some form of abuse lest the question be intriguing enough.

Harry pointed at the Dark Lord's feet, popping the last corner of his sandwich into his mouth. "You took your shoes off. We haven't seen _anybody_, either. Aren't your Azkaban followers here? I thought I'd run into at least one of them by now."

Voldemort tilted his head. "I spent a decade as an unfeeling…thing, Harry. Wearing nothing on my feet allows me to feel. It is pleasurable to me."

Harry stopped chewing.

"As for my Death Eaters…" Voldemort grinned. "They are in their individual rooms. I can communicate with them from anywhere, you see. I commanded them and they obeyed."

"What are they like?" Questioned Harry. "I mean, Azkaban's got to be a bitch, right? Are they all…you know, together?"

Voldemort stilled. "They are…in as good a condition as I could have hoped for. A year's worth of therapeutic exercises and open land has benefited them greatly. My healers have done well."

Harry nearly winced at the expression "my healers." Well, he supposed they were his healers, now.

"So…" Harry twiddled his thumbs dramatically. "World domination, eh? How's it going on that front?"

Voldemort smiled sadistically. "Plans are in motion. In fact, I have plans for you as well. Would you like to hear them?"

Harry knew what that was. It was bait to placate him from his earlier outburst. Harry shook his head with amusement.

"Oh no. No, no, no," Harry laughed. Voldemort's eyes grew darker and Harry did not care. "You don't get to have it both ways. Blimey, you ignored me for a year after I saved your arse. I committed myself to your cause, did I not? 'You'll never regret it,' you said. Guess what, Voldemort? You've not given me anything to trust you with."

Voldemort looked at him strangely. "I gave you nothing, Harry? I gave you everything. Knowledge, power, the home you never had…I gave you my favor and means to contact me personally. The latter is something I have not given to anyone else. Clearly you are telling a lie, Harry, so what is your point?

Harry stared back. Well, at least they were not yelling this time. He rubbed his face in frustration. "I just – you can't have it both ways, mate. How else am I supposed to say it? You can't just write out grand plans for me without including me, you know what I mean? Look, let's be honest, here. What do you view me as? A tool? A project? What?"

Voldemort paused, looking Harry over with unsettling intensity. He opened his mouth to speak, but the words were halted with a timid rap on the door.

"Speak," Voldemort commanded strongly.

A timid voice spoke: "M-my apologies, My Lord. Your g-guest has been stabilized, however, his condition is l-l-less than ideal. The p-poison ravaged Mr. B-black's systems. Our initial tests indicate that he may never…r-recover."

The words struck Harry like lightning. His godfather…permanently injured. He had to go see him.

"Where is he?" Harry called out. Voldemort shot him a warning look.

"I-in…My Lord, I can show the boy, if it is y-your wish."

Voldemort rolled his eyes. "It is not hard to see where I molded Quirrell's image at Hogwarts, is it, Harry? Very well. You may go with the healer."

Harry rolled off the lounge-thing-that-had-no-name, looking to Voldemort. The Dark Lord said nothing, so Harry turned to the door.

"One more thing, Potter."

Harry turned. Voldemort had stood up and was now mere feet from him.

"I shall take your words into consideration," He murmured softly. "However, let me make something apparent to you. Who is in this room right now?"

Harry was puzzled. "Us?" Voldemort nodded.

"And who is not?"

"The healer outside?"

"And everyone else in this manor," Voldemort clarified. "My presence is a privilege, Harry. You want proof? There you have it."

Harry nodded blankly.

"And Harry?"

"What?"

Voldemort smirked openly.

"You are a Death Eater."

* * *

**See you soon.**

**Brigade**


End file.
